Garden Shed
by chocolatecheesecakes
Summary: Garden sheds are supposed to be innocuous and unsuspecting. Not a hideout for smuggled sound equipment.


**This was written for the Careers Advice class at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Challenges and Assignments) forum. My prompt was to write about one of seven unpopular careers for Wizards and Witches, and someone taking up this career.**

 **I also chose to write for the extra credit, which was writing about a character taking up a job role that they didn't hold in canon. So, I wrote about Harry deciding to become a musician. Weird, I know. But I think this hits the right spot between funny and sincere.**

 **Word count: 1135**

Garden Shed

Harry James Potter was a notoriously bad liar. His wife knew this. His best friend knew this. In fact, most of the Wizarding World was aware of this fact, due to an unlucky run in with Rita Skeeter's Quill Of Doom and his (rumoured) love affairs with his co-workers. But trying to smuggle a conspicuously large object through the garden gate was just taking the piss.

'There's no way I'm letting him get away with this,' thought Ginny, furiously setting her one-year-old son down into his playpen. Her mind was already flitting to the worst case scenarios. Maybe he had killed someone and was on the run? Maybe Voldemort was back and Harry was stockpiling food?

Maybe he was building something? Something for the Ministry, something top secret, something only he was supposed to know about - but also something he was building in their garden shed? She knew Harry had wanted to become an Auror since his sixth year at Hogwarts, but it had said nothing about building things in back gardens. Had she missed the small print at the bottom of the document registering her as his next of kin? She hadn't signed up for this.

From the playpen, James was gurgling happily away to himself, staring up at the enchanted mobile hanging above his head. He had no idea the wrath that was just about to be laid upon his father. He was ignorant of the words that were about to be slung around. All on his mind was sleep and food.

"HARRY POTTER!" Ginny screeched across the yard, standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips, eyes blazing. Her husband jumped, eyes snapping up to meet those of his wife, before adopting a sheepish, if secretive, smile.

"Are you okay?" he asked, pushing his glasses further up his nose and subtly closing the door of the shed behind him. "I got home early from work today - I thought I'd do some, erm… Gardening."

Ginny quite obviously was not buying his excuse. "I saw it," she said, taking one step into the garden, giving her son a quick glance through the kitchen doorway. "I saw you bringing that thing through here."

"What do you mean?" Harry replied quickly, clearly feigning complete ignorance. "I didn't bring anything through the garden."

"You're lying," Ginny snapped back, instantly, pausing a second to check for her son's cries before starting forward, darting past her husband and ripping the door of the shed open.

Harry's almost inaudible pleas for mercy drowned into the background of the white noise in Ginny's ears as she stared at the mess unfolding before her eyes, in the confines of their tiny, wooden, garden shed.

Her gaze first strayed to the piles of cardboard boxes in the corner, but this was no match for the large stand, standing in the very middle of the wood floor. And the object resting upon it. A shiny red… Was that a Muggle guitar?

"Ron thought it would be fun," Harry spluttered. "Just… A bit of entertainment. Nothing serious. Just in case the whole… Auror thing doesn't work out."

"What do you mean 'in case the whole Auror thing doesn't work out'?" Ginny rounded on him, eyes flashing with anger. "Harry James Potter, what have you done?"

"Nothing!" Harry blurted, going slightly pink. "I mean… Not much," at Ginny's continuing, insistent glare, he eventually sagged and relented. "We…" he swallowed, and took one calculated step away from his wife. "I mean, I…" he couldn't soften the blow with her brother anymore. Goddammit Ron, why had he had to move to the retail profession?

"Just spit it out," Ginny snapped, crossing her arms and continuing to stare down her husband. "I was always going to find out eventually. There's no use in hiding from me anymore."

"Iwantedtobearockstarokay?" Harry released, in an unintelligible string of words. He flushed a dark red colour, and reformed his statement. "I mean… I just… Wanted to try a different profession. Just for a little while. On top of the Auror stuff."

"Did Ron put you up to this?" Ginny raised an eyebrow, before pausing once more, checking for sounds that meant her infant son was being less than best behaved. "Harry - just, why?"

"I-I mean," Harry swallowed. "It was Ron's idea… I mean, the Magical Community hasn't had any good bands since the Weird Sisters broke up. And he has lots of free time at the moment, it's a down season at the shop, and I…"

He paused, considering his words, and shook his head. Instead, he sidestepped his wife, who made no effort to stop him, and made his way to the bright red guitar in the middle of the shed. Looking down at the instrument, considering his options for a moment, Harry carefully picked it up, weighing it in two hands.

"It was my dad's," he explained, not untruthfully. Honestly, it was found in the Potter Family Gringotts vault. Whether it had belonged to James Potter or not, Harry wasn't sure, but the initials of 'J.P.' engraved on the back of the fretboard seemed to be a good enough indication. "I think my mum must have bought it for him... "

"Don't you play the 'dead parents' card on me, Harry," Ginny scowled, but Harry could see the anger in her eyes slowly melting away, replaced with something a little more like acceptance, and a lot of love. "Urgh. Okay. But you tell my brother that you aren't allowed to use our garden shed as a base, you hear me? I have a small child that I need to look after, and a Prophet column to write. I can't be dealing with you two living out your midlife crises in my back garden."

Harry simply nodded, still appearing sombre, setting the guitar back onto its stand. "Thanks, Gin," he said quietly, gathering his wife into a hug. "I just want to try new things before I get too old, yanno? Especially if they're promoting me to Head Auror, as they keep saying they will. I'll have fewer missions, then."

"That's good," Ginny patted him on the back briskly, pulling away and pushing long strands of red hair away from her face. "I'm proud of you, Harold. Now, go and look after James for me, would you?"

"Anything for you, Ginevra," Harry replied, grinning snarkily. "But, seriously, thank you. For letting me and Ron have a crack at this. I want to do things I think my dad would have done, and Ron is trying to be more like how… Fred was. For George. And the rest of you"

"Go for it, love," Ginny smiled back at him, and pressed her lips to his cheek. "But clear your shit out of here, or I'll set fire to the lot."


End file.
